


Burn

by orphan_account



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Apartments, Character Death, Drama, Established Relationship, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Hallucinations, M/M, Plot twist at end, Revenge, Sadness, Slightly Out Of Character, Tears, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:21:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23603731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Michael Tritter is out for revenge against House, and it leads to a tragedy no one saw coming.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 44





	Burn

**Author's Note:**

> This fic does contain a scene where Cuddy and House are slightly out of character.  
> Inspired by several scenes from Person of Interest.  
> This is probably the saddest fic I've ever written.  
> Please comment, leave kudos, etc :D

Tritter opened the door to an abandoned apartment building. All the residents had left two months ago, and the building was starting to look a bit run down. Paint was chipped, several door hinges were becoming rusted, and a couple of windows had been cracked. He headed up to the rooftop and looked down at the street, which was pretty quiet for the time of day it was. He reached into the large bag he had brought with him and pulled out a scope at the sound of a car turning onto the street. He had been planning this moment for months, and he knew that he was risking everything in order to cause trouble. _There was no turning back now,_ he told himself. Tritter smirked as he pulled out a rather large gun and pointed it directly in the direction of the incoming car, looking through the scope once more before moving his finger over the trigger. 

* * *

Wilson was laughing at a joke that House told him. He was focused on the road in front of him, admiring the rustic charm of the brick houses and apartment complexes. A bright light suddenly reflected onto the windshield, and Wilson squinted his eyes. He saw the outline of someone on one of the apartment rooftops, holding something in their hand. He had to look a little closer, and when he realized what the person was holding, he immediately started swerving the car. 

“Call the police!” Wilson said, panicking. “House, please! There’s someone on the roof with a gun!”

House immediately pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911 as Wilson continued to swerve the car left and right.

The sound of glass shattering was heard as House covered his face with his arms to protect himself. Wilson had ducked down to make sure the glass didn’t go into his face. But he suddenly became overwhelmed by a blinding pain in his abdomen. He lifted up his hand to find bright red blood on it. 

House saw the blood and immediately became concerned. He looked down at Wilson’s abdomen and saw his white shirt turning red. 

“Fuck,” House said. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

“I’m gonna be just fine, House,” Wilson replied. “Keep your eyes open for me. I need to drive and get us out of here.” But since the pain started to get worse, Wilson stepped on the gas and did his best to focus on the road as they made their way to PPTH. When they got there, Cuddy and Foreman immediately rushed out of the hospital and over to the car, where Wilson was starting to breathe heavier and his shirt covered in a lot of blood. 

“What the hell happened?” Cuddy asked. 

“He got shot,” House said. “Please, get him into surgery right away.” 

Foreman immediately ran back inside to go get several nurses and a gurney. Wilson was loaded up onto the gurney, an oxygen mask placed over his face.

House headed down to his office, took a seat in his desk chair, and then let out his tears.

* * *

House had no idea when he had fallen asleep, but he woke up when he heard someone calling his name. He opened his eyes and looked over at his office door, seeing Wilson standing there in his white coat, white dress shirt, and black dress pants. He had a case file in his hand. 

House figured that he had to be dreaming, because the last time he saw Wilson, he was bleeding heavily. 

“Wilson! You’re okay…” House said. 

“No, House, I am not okay,” Wilson replied. “You seeing me here like this? I’m gone.”

“What…?” 

“House, I died on the operating table. The team tried to save me, but they were too late.” 

“It can’t be,” House said. “No, this cannot be true.” 

“But it is…” Then Wilson seemed to disappear from view.

Cuddy opened the office door and had a sad look on her face. Her white coat was covered in blood. 

“I’m so sorry, House,” she said. “But Wilson passed away. The bullet caused too much damage. We tried to save him…”

“Don’t,” House replied, holding up his hand. “Please, just leave me be.” 

“I am so sorry.”

Her tears started falling as she closed the door behind her. 

* * *

The numbness didn’t settle in until the next day. 

Waking up in the morning was the most difficult thing. House rolled over in bed and found the other side empty. The tears quickly returned and fell onto the pillow. 

“I can tell you’re upset. You are feeling sadness,” a voice said. “I understand how you feel.” 

House figured that he was dreaming again, but he sat up in bed and saw Wilson standing over by the door.

“I am here, my love,” Wilson said. “I’m right here. I can tell you who did this to me. It was Michael Tritter.” 

House felt guilt flow through his veins. Why was he still alive? Why did Wilson have to be taken away from him? 

Michael Tritter...the name was like poison on House’s lips. It had left a gaping wound in his heart. Something needed to be done.

* * *

Walking into work was even more of a struggle then waking up. 

House entered the hospital and still felt numb. He didn’t seem to register his coworkers talking to him. He just wanted to go into his office and be alone for the day.

Cuddy tried to offer her sympathies, but it didn’t make him feel any better. House realized that his office was full of painful memories - him and Wilson having sex on the couch, on the desk, and them working on cases together. House needed to go somewhere where no one would bother him, and he could be alone with his thoughts. He took the elevator up to the rooftop, where he rested against the protective railing. 

* * *

“Are you there, Greg?” a voice said. “Are you still with me?” 

House looked up and saw Wilson standing off in the distance. He turned to face his husband and smiled. He looked perfectly healthy - like nothing had ever happened to him. His brown hair was perfectly combed and his eyes softened at the sight of House looking at him. 

“I thought you were gone,” House said. “I hadn’t heard your voice.” 

“I’m sorry about that,” Wilson replied. “I didn’t mean to leave. I am here now.” 

House felt a pang of sadness travel throughout his body. Seeing Wilson standing there, it pained him. Knowing that he wasn’t real, knowing that he was gone, it was almost as if someone was trying to taunt him. 

“I wish you were here….seeing you like this, it’s not the same. It’s painful. It is my fault that you’re in this situation,” House said. “I am so sorry, Wilson.” 

“It’s okay, my love,” Wilson replied. “I’m still here with you. I will never leave. Whenever you need me, I’ll be there.” 

* * *

It had been a week since Wilson’s death, and Tritter had gotten injured on the job, so he had to go to the hospital for treatment. 

Cuddy had seen him enter, and when she looked at his face, she felt her blood boil. House had talked to her a few days ago and told her exactly who had been responsible for Wilson’s death. Tritter was examined and placed into a room for the night while tests were being done. 

Tritter looked around his room. The heart rate monitor beeped in the background, and in the chair next to the window, there was a shadow. 

“It’s just me, Detective Tritter,” Cuddy said, leaning forward. “You have nothing to worry about.” 

“Doctor Cuddy. What can I do for you today?” 

“I’m here because there is a debt that needs to be paid. On the outside, you look like a man who cares about people; someone who wants to help them. But on the inside, you’re nothing but a sack of shit.” 

“Why the hell are you here, Doctor? Are you just trying to rub something in my face?” 

“You killed Dr. James Wilson. Not only was he one of my best doctors, but he was a friend. A husband. He had friends and people who loved him, and still do. I see that it’s only fair that I would be the one who fixes the problem who is named Michael Tritter. The police told Wilson’s husband that you were the one responsible for everything. I’m going to make sure you pay for what you’ve done.” 

“What are you going to do, kill me?” Tritter asked sarcastically.

“Oh no...that would be too easy,” Cuddy continued. “My friend will be the one that kills you. I’m just going to watch what happens.” She leaned back in her chair as another figure appeared from behind the curtain. Tritter looked shocked at the sight of House holding a syringe in his hand.

“Because of you, the one person I love is dead. You shot the love of my life,” House said, angrily. He took ahold of the IV line and inserted the syringe, releasing the medicine.

The heart rate monitor fluctuated as Tritter’s heart rate slowed down and then became a solid, flat line.

* * *

“House! House, can you hear me?” 

House opened his eyes and looked around at his surroundings. He noticed that he was in his bedroom, the sunlight streaming through the window. He turned his head to see Wilson looking at him. 

“Are you okay?” Wilson asked. 

House looked at him closely and put a hand on his cheek, feeling warmth.

“You’re...you’re okay,” House said. 

“Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“I had the worst dream ever. You...you got shot by Tritter. You died and lived as a hallucination. It was awful!” House almost started crying. 

“I’m right here, House,” Wilson said, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m not going anywhere.” 


End file.
